


Haunted

by GalaxyGhosty



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:20:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3766246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why are you so quiet, Jacky-boy?” Mark sang, eyes piercing into him. He licked his lips slowly. “Aren't you going to kill me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> A request for turner-the-awkward on Tumblr.
> 
> I rather dislike this piece. But nothing can be done, I suppose. I'm not skilled at writing two dark!characters, I've found. It's weird writing where both characters are ready to kill each other. I'm so used to writing one. 
> 
> But anyway. Enjoy.

“You're losing your touch.”

“Maybe now I've got you right where I want you.”

Jack scowled, gritting his teeth as he gripped the keys in his hand tight. Said keys were the keys to the handcuffs keeping the other's hands bound firmly behind his back. The grin on his face made him sick. It was all teeth with malicious intent, a twisted sort of smirk that fell between wicked and insane.

“As if,” he retaliated. “You're too much of an idiot to have orchestrated all of this.”

Mark had the courtesy to look offended, gawking at him in exaggeration. “So rude. I could do _anything_ if it meant getting close to you, Jacky-boy.”

He flashed him another smirk, dark eyes boring into him. Jack struggled not to shiver. Those _fucking_ eyes always gave him the shakes. It made him want to just tear them out of his head. He hated the fact that those eyes always seemed to take control of him. 

Jack didn't like other people controlling him.

The lights flickered. Jack cursed his choice of place, but for what he wanted to do to the bastard, the place had to be secluded. This stupid man had been haunting him, ever since his firm skirmish with him all those months ago. It was as if Mark had set him in his sights, and wouldn't let go until he had his wicked way. 

Avoiding him hadn't worked. Jack had to give Mark one thing—he was a damn good hunter. But tonight, tonight _he_ was the hunter, and he'd kill his prey with no remorse. 

“Why are you so quiet, Jacky-boy?” Mark sang, eyes piercing into him. He licked his lips slowly. “Aren't you going to kill me?”

“Eager to die, are we?” Jack barked, his gaze narrowing. “It'll be slow and painful, just for you.”

The smile remained. “I can't _wait_.”

Jack's blood was boiling. He clenched his fists. It felt like Mark was _taunting_ him, goading him, and how _dare_ he. How _dare_ he when he is no position to. “Shut your goddamn mouth, you bitch.”

Mark looked like he was trembling in anticipation, as if he was getting off on Jack's irritation. His eyes never broke contact. “Come over here and _make_ me.”

The Irishman pocketed the keys and paced the length of the room, closing the distance between them. He knelt down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking at the short locks. He dug into his pocket and pulled out of his knife. Flipping it open, he held it to Mark's throat.

“First,” he hissed, leaning close to his ear. “I'm gonna cut out that fucking tongue of yours. Then, I'm gonna cut out your eyes. And while you're bleedin' out on the floor like a fool, I'm going to have a grand ol' time making pictures out of your carved skin.”

Mark had the audacity to chuckle. “You sure do know how to sweet talk me, don't you, Jacky-boy?” 

He made him want to scream. Jack let his anger get the better of him and brought the knife up, plunging it down into Mark's leg. He left it in the wound and let go, panting as he listened to the scream that erupted from the man's lips. He thought maybe that would teach him, would make him know that this wasn't a _joke_ —

But Mark started laughing, almost hysterically. “You know just what I like!” 

He was still grinning, bearing his sharp teeth. “Do it again. Make me scream, Jacky-boy.”

Jack wanted to put him in so much pain. He was practically shaking he was so livid. How in God's name could this man get under his skin so easily? He wanted him to shut up, and be quiet and quiet and _quiet and quiet and--_

He twisted the knife in Mark's leg, and when the man let out a pained groan of pleasure he took the opportunity to silence him, covering his mouth roughly. He could feel Mark's grin against his lips, and that only made him want to be rougher, bringing his hand up to clench his hair, digging his nails into the other man's scalp. Another groan vibrated against his lips.

A haze filled his mind. Jack absolutely _hated_ how good it felt. It made him feel weak and he was anything _but_ weak. But the minute he felt hands on his shoulders, the haze cleared. 

Jack jumped back, and Mark slowly rose to his feet. His devilish grin widened as he swung the handcuffs around one finger, displaying the keys in the other hand. Jack immediately felt at his pocket. The keys were gone. Obviously.

“I'm losing _my_ touch?” he laughed, referencing Jack's earlier statement. “Seems to me like you've lost yours.”

Jack scowled at him. Mark cooed, “Let's dance, Jacky-boy.”

The Irishman instinctively dug into his pocket for his knife, but as he jumped back, narrowly missing a slash from Mark, he remembered he'd left it embedded in the man's leg. Mark's gaze never left him, and Jack took the opportunity to kick the bleeding wound. 

Success. The pain was enough to make him drop, but not before he grabbed Jack's foot and yanked him to the ground. His head hit the floor with a loud _thud_ , and momentarily dazed, Jack laid there. 

But in a second, he struggled to get to his feet. Mark was faster. Cackling at the struggle, he crawled on top of him, straddling him in place. Jack raised a hand to punch him, but Mark grabbed his wrist, pinned it to the ground, and drove the knife through his hand. 

Jack wailed. Mark's laughter could be heard above it. He leaned down, murmuring in his ear, “I never knew. You're so beautiful when you scream, Jack.” 

The Irishman grit his teeth, seething with rage. “Get the _fuck_ off of me, you bitch,” he snarled, still fighting to get him off. 

Mark tossed his head back, continuing to laugh. He grabbed his wrists, trapping them in his fingers as he held them on either side of his head. His smirk was feral at this point, eyes wild.

“I look forward to making you scream more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Booper dooper.


End file.
